


In Dungeons There Be Dragons

by CBlue



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Merlin (TV) Fusion, Fantasy Violence, Gen, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 11:15:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13500676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CBlue/pseuds/CBlue
Summary: Being a warlock in a land where magic is forbidden and the penalty is death? Easy. Being the manservant to the Crown Prince of Altea? Not so easy, as Coran would learn.





	In Dungeons There Be Dragons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LucPendragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucPendragon/gifts).



> This first chapter especially is dedicated to my Amino friend, the marvelous LucPendragon! This is loosely based off of BBC's Merlin, and will have tags for certain chapters that will be placed in the notes beforehand.
> 
> This chapter has warnings for the following:
> 
> Witch Burning,  
> References to Witch Burning,  
> Plots to Murder
> 
> If there are any tags that's I've missed, I apologise, and please inform me.

Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe had never left the small village of Worstchare before. The small borders of the quaint village his own cage to the great world out there. His mother gave him a gentle smile.

"It's time." She said simply. She handed him his pack, filled with what he would need for the journey. She gave him a tearful look as she handed him a piece of rolled up parchment. "Be safe." She whispered with reverence.

Coran kissed her cheek. "Of course." He smiled sadly. With naught but more than a nod, Coran exited the small cottage he had called home for all his life. He began his long trek on the uneven dirt road. The sun glared at his back.

It felt symbolic, to have the Sun be what he was walking away from. The only life he had ever known laid behind those four walls. The safety that his mother had granted him, had sacrificed for him, was nothing more than a dimming memory.

~~~~

 

 

 

Once, long before Coran ever walked that path to his foretold future, there was magic.

Well, there was always magic. There would always be magic, but this was a time when magic flourished.

The Crowned King of Altea, King Alaris, was a benevolent king. He smiled at his servants as he passed them in the hall. Not much else was known about this time in Altean history. It had been forgotten, just as magic.

The only recorded event was the death of King Alaris' wife, Queen Amara, at the hands of a warlock. The King's heart was twisted after that. He forbade all magic within Altea. Sorcerey was wicked, and would be punished. Those who practiced magic quickly fled, running far away from Altea's once welcoming borders.

The King no longer smiled at his servants. Not even the King's son, the Crowned Prince Alfor, was spared from Alaris' glacial gaze.

~~~~

The lonely trek only filled Coran with dread. The closer he came to Altea, the more a horrid fear grew in his heart. He was not sent to Altea to earn his keep, or to find a better life, not like everyone else.

Coran remembered his mother's face as she cried for him to be safe. She begged him not to use his magic.

Even the word sent chills up his spine.

The burning at the edge of his finger tips, the glow of his eyes, all of it, hidden away in a lanky frame. His small village had never discovered, but if his frantic mother was anything to judge by, they suspected.

Coran tightened the straps of his backpack around his torso. His only safety net was the worn pack filled with rations. He squinted against the setting sun. Who ever said the sun rose in Altea? Obviously, they had never trekked to Altea under the blazing sun.

Coran waved as he passed a travelling farmer. He made polite conversation when the farmer stopped to talk to him. Coran asked how much further Altea was. The farmer gave him his best guess and added to Coran's supply.

Afterwards, Coran continued onwards. The farmer wished him luck in his travels, and warned him of traveling warlocks. Coran's smiled grew nervous, but the farmer took no herd of it.

In the distance, bright blue flags billowed in the wind. They signaled that his journey was almost done. What Coran did not know, was that his journey had just begun. As he entered the large gates to Altea, his destiny would begin to unfold.

The bustle of the city was not something Coran was used to. Seeing faces and greeting them, and not having them return it, was odd. The pushing of shoulders and the muddy boots were something he was used to, though. He smiled. Even if he didn't want to leave, he may as well take it all in.

It was a beautiful city. Altea was not the largest kingdom in words, but in people. The shops busied themselves in the daylight. Folks came from all around to shop and have things mended. Coran grinned and looked over everything with excitement.

His excitement grew to confusion at the crowd forming in the center square. He gently made his was to a more visible spot. There, in the center, a young man was tied to a large wooden stake. Knights stood before him. Coran's eyes widened as he realized.

They were burning a witch.

Coran's blood ran cold. Fear, the type that they wrote poems about, coursed through his veins. Disbelief at the severity of the punishment was a strong feeling too.

Coran could see the shouts and cheers of the townpeople around him. He tried to make himself smaller in the crowd, stepping more towards the outer circle. He kept an eye on the young man, though.

Finally taking notice of the older woman, Coran gasped. Two guards held her back. She sobbed, reaching for the condemned witch. "My son!" She cried with such gusto that it must have been torn out of her.

Her son cried for his mother to stay back. He yelled for her safety. His last words were a simple plea, before the guard standing by the pike set it ablaze. Coran turned away as the man writhed. He let out an unearthly shreik that set Coran's stomach into a loop.

The guards looked on to the bonfire, wordlessly, the townspeople silent. The old woman turned to snarl at the king.

"You!" She spat. The two guards holding her struggled as she worked from their grasp.

She pointed a crooked finger to King Alaris. "Just as I have lost my son, so shall you!"

There was an eerie silence as everyone in the square followed her finger up to the balcony where the King stood watching over the burning. Beside the King, on either side, stood two young adults, each heavily adorned with Altea's colors.

The young man who stood by the King gasped. Coran thought it was an easy guess to say that this must have been the Crown Prince Alfor. Prince Alfor was King Alaris'only child, given to him before the death of his wife.

To say the square was shocked by her words was an understatement. They were breathless as she muttered a curse. Coran's eyes widened. He had never seen magic other than his own before, and certainly never for such twisted purposes.

The crowd gasped as a dark smoke emitted from her finger. It surrounded her, even as the guards dove in to grasp her. King Alaris' eyes widened as he growled for his Altea's Guard to catch the old crow.

After the smoke cleared, there was no sign of her. The guards were frantic in their haste to search the grounds. Coran spotted the King, Prince, and the young woman being escorted away from the exposed balcony.

The last word that King Alaris spoke rang in Coran's ears. He spoke it like a curse, or maybe a promise for what was to come to all witches.

"Sorcery!" The venomous accusation flew across the courtyard. All the townspeople gasped in fright.

Coran was quick to duck his head. Shame for not stepping forward to do something filled him, but it was quickly overpowered by the common sense that he would have signed his own death warrant.

Coran was quick to follow the cobblestone path that lead to what was presumably the medicine man's lodgings in the outer wall of the castle. It rested in a small nook, so it was easy to run errands for the town, and to make haste in working at the castle. It was rather convienent, really. Coran had heard tale of how trusted this man was.

It had been arranged for him to stay and work with him. Coran frowned. As much as the job and lodgings please him, he would much have rather stayed home. He looked up as he approached to sentries. They stood straighter as he walked closer.

"I'm here to see Garrett?" He spoke as he bowed his head politely.

One of the guards seemed to have lost interest, but the guard that stood at attention on the right smiles. "He's down the hall, first to the left." He informed Coran.

Coran smiled, thanking the guard, as he passed. He followed the guard's instructions and made his way down the darkened hall. It seemed ominous. The further he walked in, the further he was from his old life. The moment he walked through the open door, any chance at returning to his little village was lost.

Coran watched, seemingly in slow motion, as the older gentleman he assumed was Garrett fell from the ladder he was on top of. The slow movements were more a product of fear than magic, Coran idly thought, but it didn't stop his eyes from taking on a mysterious golden color as the bed that once resided against the wall found itself directly under Garrett's falling path.

Garrett's eyes widened as he laid deathly still on the bed. Coran froze, not uttering a word. Garrett slowly rose from his laying position.

"Was that...magic?"

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be longer, but I ran out of time and had to get it posted before I lost it. I'm so sorry D: I've had this drafted for a month. I type everything on my phone so...blergh. I should redownload Google doc like a good person but I haven't done it yet.


End file.
